


Pirates - Gun Runners

by Ghosthiro62



Category: Black Sails, Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Age of Sail, American Revolution, Broadsides, England (Country), Epic Battles, France (Country), Pirates, Revolutionary War, The Royal Navy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24539443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghosthiro62/pseuds/Ghosthiro62
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Sir William McLellan, widely known as Black Corsair, was in the French port city of Calais. celebrating his most recent profitable voyage when a stranger dressed in all black approached him and sat at the table. Their goblets were filled and the stranger produced some papers bound in soft leather.

”Letters of Marque, giving you and your crew an opportunity to serve the French Crown. Also, fifty thousand in gold doubloons.” - Sir William’s mysterious guest produced a heavy box on the table. - “This an advance for a small run to help our American friends. In addition, His Majesty will provide for a fully armed Brig with 20 cannon and 120 trained soldiers.””

Sir William, who hated the English, got up and extended his right hand to his guest. “Oui. Please thank His Majesty for his generous offer for men and materiel but I prefer my own crew.”

The stranger smiled. got up and put on his wide brimmed hat with a large ostrich feather. 

“That is your right. Best of luck and it was nice doing business with you, Sir William.”

“Men, we have a new heading,” announced Sir William to his crew. - “Rest and be merry as we leave on the morrow. The new voyage is going to be very profitable.”

The rum started to flow freely when five young men approached them. The men clearly were spoiling for a fight. Casting a glance at his captain, who, it seemed, was not touched at all by the noise, the boatswain of Thunderbolt got up and pushed one of more loud newcomers with force, shouting in his face: "Watch out or I will break your neck, little puppy!"

The young man stumbled and fell backwards to the table, but immediately jumped to his feet, grabbed a knife from his belt and instantly opened it.

The boatswain was not called Stone Head for nothing. He rose to his full height of seven feet and grabbed a heavy chair using it as a weapon.

"Watch out, or I'll smash your head!" - he growled.

At the sight of the giant, the five young men retreated. They clearly did not want to be within the reach of the chair that the boatswain was holding and promising to break some bones.

Soon a crowd of onlookers started to gather. Ahead of all was a huge man, armed with a sword in his hand. He truly looked like a pirate: a hat adorned with feathers was pushed to the back of his head, and a battered leather cuirass from Cordoba covered his chest.

"What's going on here?" - the man growled.

"Oh, my dear caballero," Mr Howard, Thunderbolt's first mate, answered, giving the man a buffoonish bow. - "This does not concern you at all."

"Well, no matter!"- cried the big man. "For I am Don Tamara et Miranda, the Kamarchas nobleman..."

"… and the underworld," added the Black Corsair, suddenly rising and staring intently at the bully. "Isn't it, caballero, count, marquis, duke and the like?"

The nobleman from Tamara, as well as the owner of many other estates, turned red, then turned pale.

"By the witches of the underworld!" - he cursed in a hoarse voice. "I will be glad to send you to your forefathers."

This time Sir William turned terribly pale. With a wave of his hand, he restrained Stone Head, who was ready to smash the man's skull, threw off his cloak and hat, and with a quick movement drew his sword.

"You yourself are a dog and son of a cow," he said in a voice trembling with rage, "but do not worry. Your miserable little soul will soon join those hanged people in the square!"

The people in the room formed a wide circle and the fighters closed in. The big man roared and ran at the corsair, who deftly stepped to the side.

"Come!" - Sir William called through clenched teeth. - "Death is waiting for you a little while."

The rogue stood in position, but suddenly straightened up and said:

"One minute, caballero. When swords are crossed, everyone has the right to know the name of his opponent."

"I'm much more noble than you, is that enough?"

"No, I want to know your name."

"Well, all the worse for you, for knowing it you will go to Hell."

Approaching him, the corsair whispered a few words in his ear. The big man cried out, either in amazement or in horror. He backed away, as if about to hide behind the audience and tell them a terrible secret, but the Black Corsair began to quickly attack, forcing him to defend himself.

Everyone was watching intently as fighters engaged in thrusts and parries. The crew of Thunderbolt stood in the forefront, but apparently did not particularly worry about the outcome of the battle. This was especially true of the latter, who knew what the brave corsair was capable of.

From the very first blows, the proud cavallero from Tamara understood that he was dealing with an experienced swordsman. As the Black Corsair rained blows on his opponent, the big man had to try really hard to repel the attacks.

The self-proclaimed count was not a bad fighter. Thanks to his tall stature, strong physique, confident grip and strong hands, he could resist for a long time, and it was clear that it was not so easy to exhaust him. The dexterous, mobile corsair, precisely responding to any movement of the enemy, did not give him, however, a minute of rest.

The corsair was on the move, his sword striking sparks when crossed with enemy's steel. A series of quick moves put the big man on the defensive every now and then. Two minutes into the fight it became clear that the giant was exhausted. Gradually he began to surrender his position. He could no longer fend off all the blows of the corsair and lost his former self-confidence. He understood that his life was in serious danger.

Sir William, it seemed, had just started. His sword sang its deadly song swiftly moving to find the giant's weak spots. Sir William pressed on with silent fury. The corsair did not take his eyes off the enemy for a minute, as if trying to captivate him with his eyes and break his strength. The audience moved apart wider, letting Sir William's enemy retreat farther until that man was pressed against the opposite wall. Stone Head, standing all the time in the front row, began to chuckle, anticipating the inevitable conclusion of this duel.

Suddenly, the strong man found himself retreating no further. He turned terribly pale, large drops of sweat covered his face.

"Enough! .." he croaked in an exhausted voice.

"No," the corsair answered grimly. "My secret must perish, along with you."

Faced with death, the enemy decided on a desperate attack. He suddenly rushed forward, delivering random and unsteady blows to the left and right. His desperate lunges were easily repulsed and now the tip of Sir William's sword was probing the enemy's throat.

"Well, now I will send you to Hell," the Black Corsair said calmly. Realizing that everything was lost, the rogue beside himself in horror began to shout:

"Help me! .. pira..."

But the words froze in his throat. The corsair's sword pierced his chest, nailing him to the wall and breaking off the unfinished phrase.

Blood poured from his throat, pouring a leather shell that did not save the adventurer from death. Staring his eyes terribly, he stared at his opponent with glazed eyes, in which horror had not died out, and heavily collapsed to the ground, breaking the blade in half that held him against the wall.

"He died," Mr Howard said mockingly.

Bending over the corpse, he ripped the sword from its hands and, handing it to the captain:

"Since yours is broken, take this one. This is the real Toledo steel, I assure you, Signore."

Without a word, the corsair took the sword of the dead man, took his cloak and hat, threw a gold doubloon on the table and left the tavern.


	2. Chapter 2

Lead clouds driven by the westerly wind crawled over the Atlantic, hiding the sun. Glowing with sun flashes, the waves rumbled through the vast expanses stretching between the American coast and four hundred Bermuda islands, which, like countless redoubts, surrounded Isle of Mann - the only inhabited island of a vast archipelago lost in the middle of the great eastern ocean.

Two ships were moving fast under full sail toward the West getting ever closer toward American shores. The ships were well armed with some 24 cannons installed in gun ports on the bigger ship, the corvette, with some ten guns installed on the Chinese style junk. The little flotilla was in a rush. They were delivering priceless cargo of gun powder to help American revolutionaries that surrounded the British forces in the city of Boston.

The trip was dangerous as the Royal Navy ships patrolled the seas in search of smugglers. So, the addition of four huge rail guns was a welcome sight on the deck of the corvette. The guns were placed on the stern, on the quarter deck, and on the spacious forecastle superstructure, and were held by cables.

At the top of the corvette's main mast, a scarlet flag flew, declaring war on everything and everything, and a white and blue striped cloth without stars flapped in the wind over the aft of the junk . This was the time the former British colonies had not yet united in the United States.

It was dinner time, and on the deck of the corvette, one and a half hundred sailors of all skin colors covered the deck wolfing down their simple meal. Spreading their legs wide so as not to fall during pitching, and holding bowls in tarred leather hats, they eagerly swallowed cod and dreamed of freeing from the shift.

Suddenly, an alarm sounded from the crows nest. "Sail spotted!" - For a couple of moments the lookout in the crows nest was silent, but then ...: - "Two ships on the left tack! Following us!"

A hundred people rushed to the sides, training muzzles of long-barrel arquebuses and English rifles at still far-away enemy. The rest rushed to the battery, ready to fire a broadside.

The tall black-bearded first mate, a prominent man of about thirty, sparkling with an imperious gaze, continued to calmly walk along the captain's bridge, without removing the pipe from his mouth. He just looked up and turned it toward the horizon.

After a couple of minutes, the lookout provided some unhappy news: "They are catching up!" Stopping, the older man pulled a pipe from his mouth and, releasing a huge cloud of smoke, calmly inquired:

"Are you sure Baby Flocco?"

"Yes, Mr. Howard."

"Frigates or ships of the line?"

"They are approaching very quickly, but it seems that these are the ships of the line."

"Damn it!" - muttered Howard. - "It sure changes matters. We should let the captain know. Stone Head!" - He cried out.

Immediately from behind a pair of heavy guns a stocky man jumped out onto the deck, muscular and shaggy like a gorilla, with gray hair in his beard and an excessively large head.

"Here I am, Mr. Howard!" - the sailor answered.

With all his appearance and heavy gait, he looked like an American grizzly bear. However, he was the son of the ancient Armorica - the rocky homeland of desperate Bretons, who had long since presented France with its best sailors.

The giant slowly crossed the deck and climbed onto the captain's bridge, removing a huge pipe from the mouth, which he sucked with such pleasure.

"I'm listening, Mr. Howard!" - He blurted out.

"What do you say, boatswain?" Asked Mr. Howard, looking at him carefully.

"I'll say, Mr. First Mate, that we have twenty-four excellent guns and four rail guns," answered the Breton.

"And if it's a ship of the line?"

"Well then, it's a serious matter, Mr. Howard." But we have on board one and a half hundred daredevils under the command of the valiant Sir William.

\- And you didn't forget about junk?

"Well, yes ... With her, I suppose, we've got a dash of bread," Stone Head scratched in the back of his head. "If only we could use guns from the junk ... But gunpowder is necessary for our friends for siege of Boston."

"Well, let's take care of our gunpowder, the benefit of its two dozen barrels would be tremendous. "

"Gunpowder depot on board during battle? There is no escaping trouble with it."

"I know ... Call the captain."

"Hm ... He's in a bad mood." He's not his own since he met the captain of American junk in Bermuda!

And here for the third time from the main mast came the cry from crows nest:

"They're catching up!"

"They are catching up ..." Stone Head muttered. "Eh hehe ... Not the best time now for boarding."

The sun was rising burning away all shreds of morning fog. Corvette continued to move under full sail. The captain appeared on the bridge. He was dressed in black with a long sword at his side, and behind his belt were a pair of large pistols and a sharp Spanish dagger, nicknamed "God save me." A wide cloak of the same color as the dress was thrown over his arm. The captain scanned the horizons with his spyglass, trying to decide his next action.

Two three-deck ships of the line went into a badewind. Their stern ports lined with cannons, ready to fire a broadside at the corvette. Red flags flashed on the main masts - a signal of the impending battle, and British royal standards flaunted on mizens. Vessels were inevitably approaching under full sail, pushed by the east wind.

"They are firing!" - reported the lookout. The corvette had already turned around and was now heading for the American shores again. The rising wind filled the sails, and the ship went at a speed of eight to nine knots per hour.

The captain carefully examined the sea in the spyglass.

"Nothing," he told Mr. Howard. - "But still it was a cannon shot"

"Stone Head! Did you hear the shot?" - the captain asked.

"I have not heard, but my hearing is excellent. No cannon fire." - answered the boatswain.

"What was that? The thunder?" - the captain pressed on.

"Well no, Captain. Clouds are nowhere to be seen."

"So what was it, in your opinion?"

"I would say, captain, that they are watching us."

"From those two ships of the line?"

"Yes, and I bet that very soon we will see them again. Fortunately, the wind favors us."

The captain lowered his head and put his hands in his pockets as he strode along the bridge. He seemed to mutter to himself. But then he stopped apparently coming to a decision. He looked resolute.

"Battle stations." - Order came.

"But what about the Americans?"

"Let them man the stern guns. They are all experienced shooters, and I have no doubt that their guns are able to do a lot of damage to both English vessels. Well, I hope that Fortune will smile on us... However, I rely on the prowess of the team and the speed of the Thunderbolt. You are my best gunner. Aim the cannons at the masts of these slow moving turtles. While we go under five or six sails, there is nothing to worry about."

"I swear by Ile de Baix, I will put glasses on my nose to see them better." Thunder thunder me, if I do not knock down the arrogance of these slow English boats!"

"I have no doubt that you will."

The Stone Head, chuckling, descended from the bridge, promptly lit a wick, which immediately burst into flames.

The worthy Mr. Howard went down to the deck to inform the crew about an inevitable battle.

None of the ships had yet appeared on the horizon, but everyone on board the Thunderbolt was ready to face the danger that was already in the air.

The sun was setting, and vigilant Baby Flokko still remained at the top of the mast, looking out for the enemy. The horizon was empty, and with the sunset, the breeze was getting stronger. Moving under full sail, the corvette cut through the waves.

As the sun set, a tough wind forced the Captain to lower the fox and the under-fox and raise the lower sails.

It seemed that the storm was getting stronger. Waves surged higher, crashing into the stern.

By nine in the evening, both the sky and the water plunged in deep darkness. The sailors took their places, ready to repel the attack of the enemy, who expected to take the corvette by surprise. The Captain remained on the bridge with Mr. Howard. He restlessly scanned the dark horizon and, sure enough, there came an alert from crows nest - "English warships. They found us!"

"I swear by Saint Patrick," - the Captain said through gritted teeth, "these English captains cannot complain about their eyes." How, pray tell, did they find us in such pitch darkness? Well ... Hope to catch us by surprise? We'll see, dear gentlemen! - And the captain barked: - Ten sailors - in the hold! Prepare lead sheets and wooden corks. If they breach our sides, quickly close the leaks! - Then he turned to his first mate: - I trust you are ready. Stone Head will take care of the cannons on the deck.

Just six hundred meters from the corvette, a bright flash cut through the darkness, a cannon volley thundered. It was no longer a warning shot - a large-caliber gun fired.

The Captain crouched, covering his ears from an unbearable noise.

"They did not hit us!" - He shouted. "What lousy gunners!"

Among the guarded silence that reigned on the corvette, the voices of the first mate and boatswain were heard:

"We'll give a return volley?"

"Not now!" - shouted Captain. - "Let's not rush! Steering!"

"Here, captain!"

"We go to the fordewind, to the north. See a huge shadow?"

"Yes captain!"

"Shoot at it. Ready on the guns! Get the boarding party ready!"

Another flash illuminated the sea already closer, at an average distance, and the next core whizzed over the deck, beheading a sailor, descending the crows nest. The unfortunate one collapsed into the water, not having time to cry out.

"I swear by Saint Patrick," the Captain exclaimed, "I will not allow my people to be harmed! Give them a twenty-eight gun salute! Fire!"

A corvette, much faster and more maneuverable than heavy ships of the line, began to move in an attack arc, enveloping the enemy with smoke and flame.

Volleys of cannonballs came from onboard batteries and four boarding guns. And as the thunder of the guns died down, the crew opened up with muskets. Fifty Americans transported from the junk showered the English with a hail of bullets.

Both British ships immediately responded with broadsides. The ship, approaching the corvette on the leeward side, was the first to open fire from the cannons, however, either the English gunners incorrectly estimated the enemy's speed, or the suddenly surging wave knocked them off their sight, but the broadside didn't reach the target: the cannonballs whizzed past the Thunderbolt stern, without causing her any harm.

The second ship of the line was in a more advantageous position. A hurricane of cannonballs hit the top deck of the corvette, killing and crippling dozens of sailors.

The cannonball flashed near the head of Captain, making him hold his breath. However, the corvette's masts were not damaged, and she still flew forward like a bird.

"They shoot like new recruits, by St. Patrick!" - grinned the Captain. - "Mr. Howard! Stone Head! Get the chain shot ready! Fire!"

And again, the corvette sent another broadside toward the enemy

For another five to six minutes, a terrible roar drowned out the roar of the waves. Cannonballs, buckshot and bullets constantly whistled between the three ships, but the British fired blindly: in the darkness of the night the corvette retreated, now and then abruptly changing course in order to confuse the English.

Twenty-eight Thunderbolt guns, under the command of experienced gunners, standing firmly at the ports, fired without a miss. The cannonballs and buckshot destroyed the rigging of the English ships, but perhaps the most serious damage to the enemy was done by the valiant Americans. They tirelessly and with amazing accuracy fired from heavy long-barreled guns. But the crew of Thunderbolt still was not out of danger. And when the corvette became almost out of range of enemy guns, the battleship, the English ship on the leeward side, blocked their escape route with a lightning-fast maneuver.

Growling a curse, the Captain shouted:

"Let's go to the badewind! Left steering! Getting ready for boarding! In the name of St. Patrick! Stone Head! Mr. Howard! Feed some chain shot to their rigging! Destroy this colossus with feet of clay!"

"Ready on the guns!" - yelled Mr Howard. The corvette rocked as twenty-four guns fired at the same time and sent their presents to the enemy. At that very instant, four boarding guns fired a chain shot at the mast of the enemy.

A dry crack popped into the rumbling of the guns, and a loud cheer rose amount the crew:

\- Aha! We got these damn clowns! The cannonball cut off their main mast! Wounded bird does not fly up! Watch out, little bird!

The ship of the line was wounded at its mast lay on the deck, the top in the water. As the British ship was dead in the water, the Thunderblt captain decided that its good time to run for it.

"Set aside the boarding! Turn west! Break through!"

And the skillfully guided corvette again went around the wounded ship of the line, and gave them another broadside. The corvette then slipped between the English ships, treating them at last with a buckshot of two stern guns.

Some buckshot swept over the Thunderbolt, threatening her gear, but too late. The corvette, driven by the tailwind, invulnerable to the helpless volleys of one hundred and twenty guns, left the enemy far behind.

Howard continued to fire from two stern guns, covering the corvette's retreat. Meanwhile, Stone Head ordered the bodies of the dead to be buried in the sea, and the wounded transferred to the cubicle, then calmly lit his pipe and climbed the captain's bridge.

\- It's over! We won! What is the course, captain?

"Let's go to Boston," - the Captain answered. - "How many of ours died?

"Fourteen bodies were buried at sea," the Breton answered with a heavy sigh.

"Are there many wounded?"

\- Seven, one will forever remain a cripple.

"Give him one thousand pounds."

"Well well! I swear by Ile de Baix, I would have chopped off my own leg for such money! Damn it! I would buy a longboat and go on it, one-legged, on the English Channel, and catch fish."

"Take four barrels of rum and treats of our brave men. Yes, see that they do not get drunk. Boston is already nearby. And who knows what awaits us in its bay? It will not be easy to break into the city, but still I do not despair."

The cannonade ceased, and the English ships of the line remained far beyond the dark horizon. The corvette swept across the ocean to the American shores.


	3. Chapter 3

Under the cover of night, the young American militiamen occupied Bunker Hill and, in complete silence, entrenched themselves in the heights of Brides Hill, above Charleston, where a redoubt was erected in less than eight hours, equipping it with many guns. At the same time, the rebels entrenched themselves and dug trenches at other heights above the city, located on the nearest peninsula that covered the bay.

What astonished the British when, at about four in the morning in the predawn fog, they saw new fortifications built by the Americans under the protection of darkness without a single sound.

The British lookout on one of the warships anchored in the harbor was the first to sound the alarm. His captain, without waiting for the orders of the admiral, ordered to open fire on the redoubt that was now threatening the City of Boston.

The British military leaders, trying to remedy their situation, turned the full power of the artillery of forts and warships against the Americans, who continued to build fortifications and managed to dig trenches almost to the very banks of the Mystic River.

The battle raged from dawn to dusk. The royal troops constantly showered the militias with projectiles, but they stubbornly dug in and fired, bombarding Boston with red-hot cannonballs in the hope of starting a fire. Only at night did the besieged cease fire, not being able to continue to spend ammunition. The Americans fully achieved their goal: Boston was to experience not only hunger, but also all the horrors of the bombardment.

That was the situation when Thunderbolt entered the mouth of the Boston Bay on a stormy night, desperate to break into the city.

Mr. Moultrie, "said the Thunderbolt captain to his American ally, as the corvette entered the harbor," I am ready to give you the helm. " What signal should we give in order not to fall under the fire of your compatriots? We already heard cannon shots. Your batteries may be located on the Charlestown Peninsula.

"Light two red signal lights on the masts," the American answered, "and let them burn for about five minutes." Our people on the shore are waiting for the arrival of the corsair ships to show them the way. You see, someone will appear.

"If only I knew the location of the English ships! .."

"They are constantly changing their position. No stranger can guess where to run into them. Would you like to meet them?"

"No, thank you. Just make sure not to run aground my Thunderbolt."

"Do not worry, Captain. I know by heart every bend of this bay.

Waving Moltri goodbye, the Captain went down to the deck and inspected his crew. Everyone was ready for battle.

Standing on the stern, the Thunderbolt captain called out to the boatswain, who was chatting near the cannon with the sailors.

"Follow me," the Captain ordered him. "I rely on this American colonel, but even more so on you. Do you know Boston well?"

"I've been there ten times, captain," the Breton said. "And although there has been a lot of water since then, I still know how to get the corvette through the harbor safe and sound."

"Or rather, to the mouth of the Mystic River, where we will anchor. The Americans are probably there."

"And we will find them, captain. The Mystic River is familiar to me. It is deep enough even for the passage of large frigates."

"Light the two red signal lights on the masts, and then join me."

The Captain returned to the bridge, exchanging a few words with the first mate, who routinely assumed command of the two stern guns, and ordered:

\- We enter the bay!

Corvette stopped maneuvering and went to the mouth, swaying on the high Atlantic waves.

Both the bay and the city were drowning in impenetrable darkness. It seemed that the besiegers, as well as the besieged, finally decided to take a break. However, the Thunderbolt Captain relied little on this apparent calm. He peered intently into the darkness and listened.

The lights on the mast were lit at the moment when the corvette reached the end of the Charles Peninsula, captured the day before by the Americans.

Meanwhile, the sea elements raged in earnest, formidable ramparts rolled one after another without respite.

Five minutes passed and the lights went out, when suddenly a voice came to the left of the corvette from the darkness:

"Ahoy there, on the ship! Throw down the ladder!"

Stone Head, who was still on deck, hastened to fulfill the demand, and soon a bearded man climbed aboard the corvette in a wide waterproof raincoat, from which water flowed in streams.

"Where is your captain?" - he asked.

Stone Head in the company of two sailors, raising a lantern above his head, gazed intently at the stranger.

"Who are you?" - the boatswain asked, pointing a cocked pistol at the stranger.

I am your American pilot. I noticed your signals and rushed to your aid."

"Who goes?" - came the cry from the darkness as the corvette approached.

"The British," the Thunderbolt Captain responded immediately.

"Stop and present the papers. Or we will put you to the bottom!"

"Now. - Once in a jump on the deck, the captain crossed it a few steps and ordered: - "Left tack! Quickly! The frigate is very close."

Then he gave instructions to the colonel and the American pilot.

A few moments later, the corvette, instead of following the order, swiftly and deftly turned to the mouth of the Mystic River. Almost immediately, the thunderbolt Captain, managing to return to the bridge, barked:

"Fire!"

The frigate, setting up its starboard side with the cannons of the corvette, was an excellent target because it no longer had time to maneuver, offensive or defensive.

The Thunderbolt's rail guns fired four chain cannonballs at the British ship's mast, and twelve cannons along starboard side vents blasted away at the enemy. The sounds of splitting wood were followed by the crash of crumbling masts, and then the thunder of more gunfire. The American batteries rushed to aid Thuderbolt's crew.

The British responded with a blind barrage, and the corvette, taking advantage of their confusion, continued on her way to the mouth of the Mystic River, until new English ships appeared closeby. However, before the danger had passed, the alarm sounded again.

The gunners of the floating batteries, still in the distance, opened fire, but their desperate efforts were unsuccessful, since the corvette, hidden by the darkness, was rapidly moving away from the battle arena. It was some time before an English frigate joined in the shelling of the fugitives. Boston redoubts and bastions immediately joined him.

"What a great performance we had for the Boston people!" And it's completely free, " - Sir William dropped, referring to the Stone Head.

"I hope they are grateful to us," the Breton muttered. "I swear by Ile de Ba, captain, the British roast their cannonballs! Once one falls into a powder magazine, we are all goners. That will be glorious fireworks! Bostonians will have fun.

"They cannot see us and are shooting blind."

"That's how it is ... But what if they get lucky?

\- Well, if you rely on luck, that's another story. Just watch that one of those cannonballs does not fall right on your head.

\- My head is made of granite! The cannonballs will ricochet from it!

\- Oh well…

Meanwhile, the British continued their cannonade. Several of the cannonballs had already landed on the corvette, killing a couple of sailors. Thankfully the insurgents, who had been fortified at the heights of Bunker Hill and Brides Hill, had been warned about the arrival of a corsair ship with an invaluable load, and opened fire on the British. The British immediately deployed guns in the direction where the colonists had entrenched themselves, and no longer fired on the bay, trying instead to suppress the cannonade of the Americans.

The frantic shooting did not subside for about twenty minutes, during which the corvette, which had not fired a single shot, crept up to the mouth of the river.

A corvette was about to enter the river mouth, when suddenly there were four fiery flashes in front of it at the very surface of the water, followed by thunder of a deafening explosion and an ominous crack of wood.

"Floating battery, ahead!"

"Do not shoot!" - roared the Captain, and jumping to the stern, he added: - "Now let it sink!"

The silence was broken by the formidable voice of the guns.

The Americans who were at the helm, about to turn the tiller to bring the ship to shore, left the corvette in the same course. In less than five seconds, a terrible blow brought down most of the gunners onto the deck. The corvette stem pierced the floating battery, literally breaking it in two.

There were screams full of horror. The English gunners went down with their guns, drowned under the water by a fierce sea element that pounced on the wreckage

Having escaped the trap, the corsair rammed and sunk a floating battery, continued on under the ferocious blows of the wind.

Some time later, the gunners of the Boston garrison, alarmed by the flashes at the entrance to the Mystic estuary, aimed their guns at him and covered the field of the recent battle with a flurry of cannonballs, not knowing that they were finishing off their own compatriots who were not buried in the sea abyss with battery debris.

Soon the lookout in the crows nest lit two fires at the tops of the main and foremast. It was a necessary precaution so that the Americans, who settled down firmly on both banks of the Mystic, did not fire at the ship.

The corvette, although it was going upstream, developed a rather high speed and within five minutes reached a deep backwater near the left bank, where the Americans erected two small but well-fortified redoubts.

The crew dropped anchors, turned the sails and lit the side lights.

A rowing boat separated from the shore and approached the corvette.

Boarding the helmsman was met by an American colonel, pilot and Corsair.

"Bah, it's you, Mr. Pardell!" Cried Moultrie. "I never thought of meeting you here again!"

"How can I miss such a noble mess!" - answered the helmsman.

"Meet: the thunder of the seas Baronet William Maclellan, the most courageous Bermuda corsair."

"We were looking forward to your arrival, sir," Mr. Pardell said, extending his hand to the captain of the Thunderbolt. "I have been instructed to convey to you the gratitude of Congress and personally of General Washington."

Bowing, the baronet answered:

"I brought you a fair supply of gunpowder, five thousand rifles with attached bayonets, two thousand grenades and four mortars." In addition, at your service my corvette and one and a half hundred of the best corsairs of the Atlantic


End file.
